


Lost lives and egg sandwiches

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grieving Sherlock, Prompt words Graveyard and Hungry, SFPAC, johnlock if you squint, she deserves a medal, supportive Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Submitted for the October SFPAC prompt challenge</p><p>Sherlock has company while he watches John at his graveside</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost lives and egg sandwiches

“Don’t… be… dead,” John’s voice cracked on the last and Sherlock ducked back behind the tree, stifling a pained noise with the back of his hand.

Dropping his head, he dragged in a calming breath as Molly placed a gentle hand on his arm. He wondered again how such a small woman could have such an enormous calming influence and he met her worried look with what he hoped was a reassuring glance.

He risked another glance around the tree, just in time to see John marching, _marching_ , back toward the car standing at the gates of the graveyard. Shoulders set, hands fisted he looked like a man preparing to go into battle, _and perhaps he is_.

“He’ll be alright, Sherlock,” Molly stood to his side, but slightly behind, giving him room physically and emotionally, “we’ll take care of him.”

Making a non-committal noise, Sherlock watched the car pull away and then lowered himself to sit on the dry grass at the base of the tree, “He won’t let you. I know John; he’ll be so busy pretending to be strong, he’ll lose sight of those that can help him survive.”

“Are you sure you’ve done…”

Sherlock interrupted her, “The right thing? No, not anymore, Moriarty forced me into a corner and my exit strategy didn’t account for…” he trailed off.

John, Molly thought. It didn’t account for John’s reaction to Sherlock’s death, is what the detective meant. How anyone could be so blind to John’s feelings was beyond her. Similarly, looking at the fragility In Sherlock’s features, she wondered if he was equally blind to his own connection to his flatmate and what leaving the ferocious army doctor behind would do to them both.

Seeing no sign that Sherlock intended to move, she shrugged off her backpack and settled herself on the grass beside him. Tugging the zip open she rummaged around inside.

“Sandwich?” She asked lightly, offering a slightly misshapen square to him, “I have no idea why, but graveyards always make me hungry.”

The odd statement seemed to pull him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the imperfectly wrapped object thoughtfully, “It’s probably a residual memory of a funeral in your childhood. Some sense of kindly visitors bringing casserole dishes and the corresponding feelings of sympathy and community.”

“Or I could just be hungry after a walk around gravestones,” she suggested in opposition.

Sherlock closed his hand over the sandwich and unwrapped it, sniffing tentatively, “Egg and cheese?”

Molly smiled, “You can do better than that, Mr Sherlock Holmes. Egg and cheese, and…?”

Sherlock smiled back in spite of himself, caught up in the tiny mystery he closed his eyes and inhaled again, his brow furrowing, “Chives and… mayonnaise?”

“Brand?” She challenged.

He opened his eyes to stare at her, mouth open, “You can’t expect…”

“I certainly do! I’m having lunch with the only consulting detective in the world,” she grinned at him before relenting, “Alright then, whole egg or that nasty commercial stuff?”

“Whole egg,” he added without a pause and then added, “but to be fair, you gave that to me yourself, you wouldn’t have been as derogatory if you used the commercial brand.”

Molly sank her teeth into her own sandwich and chewed, he nose wrinkled with a smile.

“Molly… “ Sherlock murmured.

“Mmmm?” She asked around a mouthful.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing the sandwich carefully down on his crossed legs, “for coming with me today.”

Molly swallowed and looked at the tired lines reappearing as the sadness returned to his face, “Oh Sherlock…” she reached out to touch the back of his hand, “How can I help?”

“You’re already helping, more than I can say,” he toyed restlessly with the crust on his sandwich.

“I meant it, you know,” she spread her fingers to cover his hand, “I’ll look after him, I promise.”

Sherlock nodded, face turned down, as she watched a single tear trail down his cheek to fall from his chin.

Molly finally eased her fingers under Sherlock’s hand and curled them up, clasping his firmly, “And I’ll look after you too.”

Finally, with a shuddering sob, Sherlock tipped sideways to slump into her lap and in the quiet of the graveyard, grieving for his lost life, he finally let the tears fall as Molly stroked his trembling head.


End file.
